


Just What the Doctor Ordered

by Starlithorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Sick Fic, sometimes you find flatmates who care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is laid low with a cold, not that that bothers his flatmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just What the Doctor Ordered

**Author's Note:**

> I found myself punched in the face with a cold, and I sort of gave it to John. Look at me, regretting nothing.

John sat on the sofa, sniffling and coughing and sighing heavily. There were few things in the world he hated like being sick, and here he was. Sick. Breathing was a chore he was about ready and willing to stop, because honestly, at this point, all it was doing was aggravating his sore throat and chapping his lips. He knew, of course, that it wasn't anything more than a bad cold, but he was a doctor—doctors are notoriously bad patients. And, to top it off, he was a grown man. The perfect storm of grumbly, congested, and entirely certain that it was the plague.

Be better if it _was_  the plague.

As he was sighing and sniffling and really making an absurd amount of noise, Sherlock was bustling about the kitchen. It was obvious, even to John in his impaired state, that the detective was at a delicate stage of an experiment. He continually referred to some open book lying on theworktop, checked whatever it was on the stove constantly, and didn't so much as glance at his clearly-fatally-ill flatmate. They'd only been living together for a couple of months, and they still weren't quite used to sharing so much space.

Well, all right, that wasn't true. At all. They'd been friends almost immediately, and it had been unthinkable that they'd actually spent time living _without_ each other.

In reality, John knew that Sherlock was ignoring him because it was how Sherlock was. It was easier (and kinder) to blame a lack of familiarity. Even if it wasn't true.

After a while, John woke up fully from a doze he hadn't been aware of. Sherlock was still busy in the kitchen, but now he was pouring his experiment into one of the bowls. John groaned dully, which spurred a small coughing fit. After all, did Sherlock really have to use bowls they _ate_ out of? Really! At least his nose was totally stopped up. He still remembered the noxious smells from last week's experiment.

"Here," Sherlock said sullenly as he walked into the sitting room, a steaming bowl in one hand, a glass of orange juice in the other. He set them both down on the table and looked at John expectantly. "Chicken noodle soup."

John studied the bowl critically. Soup? Sherlock made him soup?

"Is this an experiment?" he asked warily. Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed with annoyance.

"No, John, it's just soup!"

"Did Mrs Hudson make it?"

"No, I did."

"From a can?"

"I'm an adult. I am fully capable of preparing food. Just because I rarely eat doesn't mean I _don't_ eat."

"Right."

John carefully took a spoonful of the soup and blew on it. He watched the steam soften his friend's face, just a touch, before taking a sip. It was hearty and delicious and warmed him to his very bones.

John finished the bowl, feeling tired and full after. It had been perfect, just what the doctor ordered.

When he wasn't laid low by a stupid cold, of course.

He thanked Sherlock and stretched out on the sofa.

When he woke four hours later, he noticed some quiet changes. The sitting room was dark, save the light in the corner and the fire in the grate. There were two blankets draped neatly over him. And there was Sherlock, sitting peacefully in his chair, playing soft lullabies on his violin with his eyes closed. John smiled to himself and went back to sleep.


End file.
